


Keeping A Secret

by heartlikethat



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But We’ll Figure It Out Together, Childhood Friends to Adult Enemies to “Fake” Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining ft. Mutual Idiots, There Will Be Some Angst & Sexual Tension Because Of Course, Um...What Is Happening Here? I Don’t Even Know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-19 13:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29999703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartlikethat/pseuds/heartlikethat
Summary: Zoey and Max used to be best friends, now they can’t stand each other, so why are they pretending to be in a relationship?
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	Keeping A Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way I went from head empty, no thoughts to writing 3000 words of garbage lol.
> 
> In this universe, Zoey still works at SPRQ Point, Mitch is alive and well, they’re all a few years younger than canon. The biggest change is that Max grew up in SF and him and Zoey were friends until they had a falling out, the details of which will be revealed in time. Also, no powers.
> 
> Chapter title is lyrics from “I Owe You A Love Song” by Shiny Toy Guns, which helped inspire this story.

Months down the line, when Zoey arrived at a turning point in her life, she would be able to identify the exact night, the very conversation, down to the precise moment that would explain _how_ her world got flipped upside down. How everything that was once so neatly outlined in black and white was suddenly a whole lot more _gray_ than she’d like it to be. 

Admittedly, Zoey had never been a fan of those gray areas, she always liked things to be clear and concise, with only one right answer to be given or found. It’s why she became a coder.

That burning need to have an irrefutable answer is also why, when the time inevitably came for Zoey to question how her life got so damn complicated, she would find the solution by blaming everything on David, because it was entirely _his fault._

 **The Night Where It All Began** started out perfectly fine, with Zoey entering her parents’ house and being greeted by the enticing aroma of a home-cooked meal, her stomach giving an anticipatory rumble of excitement at the prospect of being fortified with something other than a bland frozen bean burrito smothered in hot sauce.

As she walked into the kitchen, she immediately took stock of the sight before her. Her mother with her back turned, dicing up a cucumber for a salad while her father was standing by the stove and reaching for a wooden spoon to stir the contents of the pot before his attention was captured by her appearance.

“Hey, kiddo!” Mitch smiled, his face lighting up as he abandoned the spoon in the vat of sauce in favor of scooping her up into a hug, the kind where she was lifted onto her toes and enveloped by the familiar scent of sandalwood and pine and another smell that was uniquely _her dad_. A wave of comfort washed over her as she squeezed him back just as tightly.

“Why don’t you ever greet me like that?” Zoey heard her brother’s voice chime in and she extracted herself from her father’s embrace to peer over at where David was sitting at the kitchen table with a laptop in front of him and a literal _mountain_ of paperwork. His fiancée, Emily, next to him, looking stressed as she leafed through the mound of papers.

“Because you never leave,” Mitch quipped, pointing an accusatory finger at David, though his tone was lighthearted. “And your sister has been so busy at work lately, I feel like I haven’t seen her in ages.”

His comment made her stomach twist with guilt. “I’ll try and stop by more often,” she promised as she skirted around him to join her mother at the island, leaning against it. “Can I help with anything?” she asked, eyes darting around and taking note that the vegetables for the salad had already been chopped up.

Maggie turned her head and offered a brief, but kind smile down at her before gathering up the cucumber slices and dumping them into a large glass bowl filled with romaine lettuce and spinach, chunks of tomatoes, slivers of carrots and radishes. “I’m all set here, but you can help David and Emily clear the table for dinner.”

Zoey snapped her fingers. “Consider it done.” She meandered over to the table, regarding the scene warily and unsure how to proceed. “So...what’s happening here, exactly?” she inquired, wagging her fingers and waving her hands over the mess as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Just planning for what was supposed to be a _small_ wedding,” Emily answered sharply, narrowing her eyes at David, who in turn looked sheepish.

“Hey, you only get married once,” he defended.

Emily turned back to the stack of sheets piled high in front of her. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she muttered under her breath.

Bracing her hands on her hips, Zoey’s head fell to the side. “Isn’t your wedding in a month? Shouldn’t all this be done by now?” The words spewed out of her mouth before her brain had the chance to inform her of the mistake she had just made.

“Thanks for that helpful reminder, Zoey,” Emily responded in a cutting voice. “I had no idea it was so soon.”

Zoey winced and stammered out an apology, her words tumbling over each other as she felt the sting from Emily’s retort and the heat of her glare.

“Everything is pretty much done,” David attempted to ease the tension as he shut his laptop, his eyes zipping back and forth between the two women, “We’re just going over some final details to make sure we haven’t missed anything.” He stood up. “Oh, and Em? Go ahead and take away Zoey’s plus one. Now that we’re a month out, I think it’s safe to say she won’t be bringing anyone,” David remarked as he turned away to pack up his laptop.

Her mouth flew open in affront because _what gave him the right?_ To make such bold claims, such preposterous accusations? She pointedly ignored the fact that she was, indeed, as single as a person could get and she was definitely in a bit of a dry spell at the moment (more of a drought, really). Honestly, some days she worried that she was withering up down there, but that was a problem to be addressed another day.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” she cried out in indignation, slapping her hand down hard on the table and the corners of her lips curved into a slight smirk when David flinched before he pivoted to face her more fully.

Crossing her arms defensively over her chest, she tilted her head and asked in a sickly sweet voice, “What are you implying, dearest brother?”

David rolled his eyes and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, you can relax, Zoey. I just meant it’s common knowledge that you aren’t dating anyone right now.”

And while he was not _wrong_ , there was something about the way that statement slipped so casually from his mouth, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like _of course_ Zoey Clarke didn’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, that suddenly made her feel extremely... _combative_.

“What if I am?” she challenged him with raised eyebrows, tapping her foot on the ground.

David shook his head. “You’re not,” he affirmed with an arrogant look and a smug smile.

Zoey didn’t back down, just dug her heels in deeper. Maybe she was a tad stubborn, possessed by the juvenile urge to prove him wrong even though he was exactly right. “That’s where you’re wrong, David,” she spoke in a lofty voice. “I am dating someone, actually. A very nice...man,” she finished lamely, rather unconvincingly, but it drew the attention of her parents, her father regarding her with a hint of intrigue in his expression.

Maggie deposited the bowl of salad onto the newly cleared table, the summit of paperwork mysteriously gone. “Oh honey, why haven’t you told us about him?”

“Because he doesn’t exist,” David pointed out, earning him another scowl from Zoey before she sauntered over to the cabinet that housed the plates and grabbed a stack of five.

“It’s still relatively new,” she replied, lying through her teeth as she headed back toward the table and started setting down the plates. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure that it was going to work out between us. But it is. It’s great. He’s great. Everything is just so...”

“Great?” David readily supplied for her with a grin plastered on his face, one that made her grit her teeth as she imagined scraping it right off of his stupidly annoying face.

She was reminded of their petty fights as children and the way they would constantly provoke each other, as siblings tend to do, but it was a trait that apparently neither of them had outgrown.

“Yep!” Zoey agreed with an abundance of false cheer, flashing her teeth at her brother. “So you can officially mark me down with a plus one because I’ll be bringing him to the wedding.”

David was still wearing that infuriating grin when he said, “Oh, I can’t wait.” He took a seat before plunging his knife in the tub of butter and smearing it over a roll sprinkled with sesame seeds. She imagined smearing that butter all over his self-satisfied face.

It wasn’t until Zoey was back at her apartment that she felt the full weight of what she’d done crash over her, sort of like she had just been flattened by a piano, feeling a crushing amount of pressure and with absolutely no idea how she was going to get out from underneath it.

Collapsing with a dramatic flop onto her bed, she wondered, _who the hell am I going to drag to this damn wedding?_

* * *

By Monday morning, Zoey had formulated a plan and she was currently giving it a mental run-through as she waited in line at her favorite coffee shop, the Golden Gate Grind (and it’s her favorite not just because they make a mean latte, but it’s also the perfect distance away from SPRQ Point so that by the time she sits down at her desk, her drink has cooled to the optimal sipping temperature).

It was busier than usual that day, she noticed, the line almost extending to the door, but it allotted her extra time to actually work up the courage to enact her plan.

Zoey had narrowed her date choices down to Leif and Tobin, who were both objectively attractive, though she harbored no desire to date either one of them. But fake dating, she supposed, was something she could manage as long as it was only for a designated period of time and came with a strict set of guidelines.

And even though she had logged many, _many_ complaints about the pair of them over the years to her family, she was almost positive she could spin a believable tale within her intricate little web of lies. Craft some story about how they were working late and one thing led to another and all of a sudden, Zoey was gripped with the realization that ‘hey, maybe this person isn’t a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, after all’ (that was a good backstory for Leif, she mused).

She was still ruminating on _how_ , exactly, she planned on bringing up her idea to the brogrammers so that it came across as mutually beneficial when someone bumped into her from behind, forcefully enough that she lost her footing and staggered forward, almost slamming into the person in front of her, but she caught herself right before she made contact.

“I am _so_ sorry,” she heard the apology come from behind her and the voice was familiar, so very familiar, that for a moment she wondered if maybe she was still asleep and the flashes of warm summer nights and warm brown eyes that flooded her vision were all just a dream. The two of them as kids sprawled out on the grass in her backyard as they peered up at the night sky and promised that they’d always be best friends, a solemn and sacred vow declared beneath the brilliance of the stars.

And then she was jarred back to reality when she remembered how easily that promise had been broken, and not by her. 

Balling her hands into fists, she felt the sharp edge of her nails cutting into the flesh of her palms as she steeled herself (or tried to, at any rate), before spinning around to meet one of the ghosts of her past.

Even though she had recognized his voice, even though she knew, without a doubt, who would be standing there when she turned, she was not the tiniest bit prepared for the sight that greeted her or the subsequent swarm of emotions that ransacked her body.

Zoey watched as recognition dawned on his face, his lips parting in surprise, a flicker of something in his eyes that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend except that it made her stomach flip and she _hated_ it, how immediately he had been able to affect her.

While he was momentarily stuck in a state of near paralysis, slack-jawed, his eyes wide and unblinking as they poured over her face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, she seized the opportunity to do a quick appraisal of her own, marveling at how he could look so familiar and yet still so vastly different.

Her gaze drifted to the fitted slate gray button-down shirt stretched across his broad chest and she could practically visualize the muscles that were hidden underneath. One brief glance was all it took for Zoey to realize he had filled out since she’d last seen him in person (and she won’t ever admit the tabs she had secretly been keeping on his social media accounts; although, like her, his online presence was scarce and sporadic). No longer was he the awkward, fumbling, lanky adolescent on the cusp of adulthood that she so vividly remembered.

A small part of her, buried somewhere within the depths of her heart, ached with sadness at the loss of that boy. And at the loss of so much more.

With great effort, she crammed that feeling away and allowed her eyes to wander up to drink in the sight of his clean shaven face and his thick brown hair, the once springy curls he had sported in his youth now neatly tamed and slicked down with product. The ache came again.

“Maxwell,” she greeted him by his full name, spitting it out like she had just taken a bite of something rotten. His expression faltered, then became impassive.

“Zoey,” he echoed her greeting, though with noticeably less hostility in his voice. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black dress slacks, Max rocked back on his heels. “It’s been awhile. How have you been?” His tone was measured and detached.

Pressing her lips together until they formed a grim line, she stopped herself just shy of scoffing, but she couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from seeping into her voice when she responded, “I’ve been great. _Fantastic_ , even.” She began a series of energetic nods, an embellishment to further emphasize how well her life had panned out, a life without him. “I’m doing exactly what I always wanted to be doing. I’m sure you can’t say the same, but I bet your dad is just _so proud_ of you.” Zoey shrugged innocently, though the smirk that played upon her lips was devious, maybe even bordering on cruel.

Shame reddened the tips of her ears, though her hair thankfully covered the evidence, because her parents had raised her better than that, they had taught her to treat everyone with kindness and respect, to always be polite.

But seeing Max again dredged up harrowing memories of the endless nights Zoey had spent curled up in bed in her dorm room, wondering why her best friend wouldn’t speak to her, trying to figure out what she had done for him to abandon her like that, seemingly out of the blue.

Those questions gnawed at her for years, though time had done wonders at dulling the pain, eventually only feeling the acute sting of loss on nights where sleep evaded her, lying alone in the dark with only her thoughts for company during those vulnerable hours just past midnight.

His presence brought those questions to the forefront of her mind and Zoey was still waiting, over half a decade later, for Max to bestow her with the answers.

So while she felt a modicum of guilt at her malicious taunt, knowing about his strained relationship with his father and aware of how her calculated words would burn at him like acid, in that moment, it was far easier to hold onto the anger than it was to give in to the hurt.

Max’s expression hardened and his mouth twisted into a wan smile, his eyes like steel. “I just transferred to the downtown location, it’s right around the corner,” he told her, although she was well aware of that information as she passed by Richman Dental five days a week en route to work. “Today’s my first day, as a matter of fact, so I’m sure we’ll have plenty more impromptu encounters like this one to look forward to.”

Matching her sneer with one of his own, he took two purposeful strides forward and settled in beside her as the line crept along at glacial speed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to sound irritated, but she worried that he could sense her fraying nerves, could hear the unsteadiness of her breath. Zoey had already been feeling out of sorts by his abrupt appearance and that feeling magnified tenfold with him now standing so close to her, his arm just barely grazing her shoulder, but somehow making her skin prickle with heat as her heart went full throttle. 

“Same as you, I imagine.” Max lifted a hand and gave it a small wave around, indicating the obvious—that they were in the middle of a coffee shop.

“That’s not what I-” she huffed, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

Tense silence fell over them and Zoey shifted restlessly on her feet, feeling flustered and absently chafing at her arms.

A few moments later, they ambled ahead as another patron placed their order and vacated their spot in line, waiting at the far end of the counter where their drink would be handed over.

The silence continued and when it became too much for her to endure, overwhelmed by the pressing need to break the tension as dictated by her anxiety, her mouth began speaking of its own volition. “Hey, so you remember David, right?”

Max nodded, his brown eyes dark and questioning as he fixed his stare on her.

“Well, he’s getting married next month and I’m currently without a date.”

Somewhere, at the back of her mind, a voice was screaming at her to _stop_ , to heed her original ill-conceived plan, that nothing good could possibly result from the path she was about to swerve on. 

Raising his eyebrows in a mocking display of astonishment, he responded, “I find that hard to believe, what with how charming you are and everything.” There was no denying that sarcasm laced his words, but a teasing, almost _soft_ , smile twitched at the corners of his mouth and her stomach fluttered.

A half second later, the smile vanished, leaving her to speculate if it had ever been there at all. 

What Zoey should have done was leave it at that, she should have hightailed it right out of there without her daily fix of caffeine, away from Max and away from the conflicting emotions battling for dominance, consisting mostly of the aforementioned hurt and anger. But another feeling lurked, one that she was too scared to name, although she would later come to suspect that it was the driving force behind what came out of her mouth next.

“You should be my date.”


End file.
